Balancing on a Wire
by 1boo
Summary: A collection of Fullmetal drabbles, all under 200 words in a range of pairings and love. The exchange has to be straight down the middle path, balancing a razor on a wire, so they learn. Love is not simple. Love is not safe. Warnings for some boyxboy.
1. Liquor Dreams

**Title: Liquor Dreams**

**Pairing: Roy/Ed**

**Words: 145**

**Dedication: to Ebony Colmen, who is writing an awesome edxroy fic, The Price To Pay **

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Drink away the pain Roy.

It's gotta be the oldest bloody trick in the oldest bloody book. Oh, drink the pain away, and pray the crazy dreams are not of screams and flames and oh those gloves aren't white anymore, they're red, red, red. But a spark can still live, still consume desperate, pleading souls.

Pour the glass with shaking fingers and feel the liquid burn down your poor raw throat.

Don't think of those things now Roy, you could get stuck in a dream of them, do you really want to feel the war again Roy? You know I could let you...

"No..."

So slurred Roy, are you sure?

Moaning.

Think of blond hair Roy, and melted gold eyes. Remember that boy Roy? Of course you do. That poor, desperate boy.

Don't you just love the liquor dreams?

"Only of him."

Of course Roy.

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**A/N: This is my first ever drabble, but don't worry about going easy on me, it's how I learn :) I apologize to my regular readers for not updating my chapter stories, but drabbles are shorter and I can write them in the tiny amount of spare time the teachers give us. The workload is crazy. **

**By the way, what pairings do you guys want? I need to know so I can write it. More EdxRoy?**

**Review Please!**


	2. Deadly

**Title: Deadly**

**Pairing: Mustang/Hawkeye**

**Words: 131**

**Warning: only for one word. Nothing at all, really :)**

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The smooth metal of the gun barrel is biting into his neck.

He knows the safety is off, and the slightest tightening of those soft fingers will pull the trigger. The threat of death does not bother him, as their lips meet and tongues battle for ultimate dominance, even though he knows she has the upper hand, oh how could he forget with that cold, hard steel pressing into his pulse that thunders along. And no matter how much he fucking plunders her mouth, she will always win.

It's damn annoying, but her free hand is under his jacket and those soft, soft fingers are stroking him and creeping down his abdomen as he tries no to gasp so that the gun doesn't click and bury a deadly bullet in his head.

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**A/N: Not much to say today... kinda tired. I'm going to try to update this story every day. But I wont if I don't get many reviews, cause if I don't, there must be something I need to fix! (Must work harder!!!) Have a nice day everybody!**

**Cheers,**

**pandafoot :)**

**review please! Ideas, thoughts, comments, themes, critiques, prompts...anything!**


	3. To Be Soft

**Title: To Be Soft**

**Pairing: maybe if you turn your head and squint. See what you want to see :)**

**Words: 198 (2 away from the limit, ack!)**

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He can remember how soft that little boy was as he clambered up next to him on the stone wall. Such soft, creamy pale skin, he couldn't help but touch it, to stroke the arm that's hand was knotted in his shirt, down the leg. The love would well up inside him, and he would press a chaste kiss to that little boy's cheek.

"Alphonse," he murmured, the feel of the name slipping easily off his tongue.

He can remember pulling his little brother into his lap, one hand cupping the four-year-old's cheek, the other on his chest.

He doesn't need reminding that those days are over now.

He can hear it as the rain clanks on the nearly empty (but for a soul) suit of armor next to him. He can smell it in the metallic tang that hovers in the air. He can taste it in the dampened feeling of depression, the bitter flavor of desperateness. (Searching, searching all the time.) He can even turn and see it. (Sinning and sinning.)

But he cannot get himself to touch, because reality is cold and hard and he wants to feel soft skin beneath his fingers.

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**A/N: I scribbled this down while waiting for the solar water heater to kick in so I could take a shower. I hope you liked it!**

**Please review!**

**Please!**


	4. Beautiful Moon

**A/N: This was a challenge by TheQueenOfMediocrity to write an exactly 100 word drabble, preferably Ed/Roy. Thanks for the challenge!**

**Title: Beautiful Moon**

**Pairing: Ed/Roy**

**Words: 100**

**Dedication: TheQueenOfMeiocrity. Without you, I never would've attempted this, much less found out I could actually do it! ****Thank you!**

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It was an odd thing to see Roy Mustang asleep, his head resting on the wood of his desk. The oddest thing was the moonlight that streamed in behind the man, bleaching out his hair so that his tired head shone like another moon, or a star, fallen to earth. Maybe it was just the moonlight that permitted these thoughts, but Ed knew there was another reason he didn't turn away, just watched the other man breathe, his moon-silver hair floating in wisps on the gentle breeze escaping his lips.

Outside wind rustled moon-bleached trees, and all was silent.

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**A/N: Wow, I can't believe I did that. It didn't even take that long. Tell me what you think! Review! I love challenges!**


	5. Drowning

**Title: Drowning**

**Pairing: Roy/Ed**

**Words: 173**

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When Ed found the Colonel wasting himself in the bar, he really should've turned back and walked away to leave his superior officer on his own to drink the pain away in this goddamn lonely, rundown place.

But he figures they might as well be goddamn lonely together.

He sits down on the stool and can smell the liquor. Mustang turns his head and looks at the blond with glassy eyes and Ed can see the war and smell the beer.

He's seen those same eyes before, looking into any mirror anywhere. They're the same as the molten-gold eyes that are staring tiredly back at Mustang.

The haunted men sit, and the dark haired one shoves his half full drink over to Ed, amber liquid sloshing, and buys himself another brimming glass.

For once, they'll drown with another. And the dry sobs and terror, hardly muted by alcohol (but just enough to keep them going) runs as thick as the liquor.

They are drowning and there are starbursts in their eyes.

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**A/N:** **I wrote this in math class. Drowning in math! (haha). Please review!!!**


	6. Leather Pants and Sunlight

**Title: Leather Pants and Sunlight**

**Pairing: Mustang/Ed**

**Words: 194**

**Special thanks to TheQueenOfMediocrity for her review! Think of this as a present :)**

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The day was hot and sticky and bright, the Colonel's office much the same. Neither took any notice. Ed's wrists were pinned to the wall, Mustang's finger's hooking under the white glove of his flesh hand.

How exactly they'd gotten into this position, stationed next to the window behind Mustang's desk, neither really knew.

Mustang pulled regretfully away from the blond's now too-red lips, sweaty faces separating.

For a few seconds he just looked down, the light striking across his dark hair, hot and relentless. When he looked at Ed, the boy suddenly realized that this was not some odd (but wonderful) lapse of reality, but life — his life. Elric stared for a second, and Mustang watched his hair light up, the yellow sparking and catching the light streaming in, blowing with the rapid huff of his breath through softly parted lips.

"Y-y-you're **gay**?"

Mustang felt this was unfair to ask after finally snogging the hell out of him.

"Well... You wear leather pants!!!"

It was completely unfair how hot those things looked on him.

"What the he— "

The sunlight continued to beat down relentlessly on the two as they again forgot all else.

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**A/N: Wow, two up in one day, it's a new record for me!!! This is what happens when I get reviews.** **I wrote this in science, but the majority was done after the swim meet, sitting around at the pool. My team dominated, by the way! Please don't not review (haha)! Aka: please review!**

**xoxo—**

**pandafoot :)**


	7. Click

**Title: Click**

**Pairing: Ed/Winry**

**Words: 187**

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Some days, she'll go out with that lantern, and stare off into the distance.

On, off. On, off.

The clicks soothe her and pierce her in equal measure, her blonde hair blowing in the evening wind.

On, off. Click, click.

The stars are coming out but she refuses to look at them. Her eyes do not move from the cemetery, and Winry can almost swear she can see those flames coming up from over the hill, as if time never moves from that haunting day in October, and remembering Ed in Al's arms, metallic now, nearly dead, and if she'd been breathing she would've screamed.

Winry shakes her head, blonde hair whipping, the wind picking up as dusk swiftly takes hold. _Don't think about that. Just keep going._

The latern's mantra continues as her eyelids flutter, and she tries to imagine **him **coming up the path behind a running, laughing, human Al, **his **yellow hair stained darker in the sunset that is now far behind her, a smile on those beloved lips.

The tears fall thick and there's a tiny smile.

On, off. Click, click.

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**A/N: Written while sipping sprite and watching modern marvles on the history channel. At my grandparent's house. Tell me what you think of this break from Ed/Roy!!!**


	8. Chess

**Title: Chess**

**Pairing: Ed/Roy**

**Words: 172**

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The game of chess is a precise thing, victory like an animal you could scare away if your attention wanders for any real length of time. Ending up making random moves for the sake of appearing to actually care about the black and white piece's steady march (some would call it a dance) across the board. _This _game seemingly consisted only of this style of chess-playing, and was going much longer than was by any means usual.

Neither had noticed how fatally cornered Ed was, aimlessly moving pawns as if they were making truly deciding moves, instead of lazily attempting to go in a full circle around a group of dumbly inactive pieces, like a skewed game of duck-duck-goose.

Finally, the tension between the two men had to relieve itself, and they crashed to the floor, Mustang on top, as chess pieces scattered, flew; rolled in all directions.

Somehow creating a beautiful picture that neither was in the mood to notice, lips on lips on skin.

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**A/N: Yet again, written waiting for warm water in my shower... this just struck me over the head. Personally, I like chess, but I guess not everyone is. I think Mustang would be good at it, he's a strategist. Please feed your author. Review!**


	9. River Day

**Title: River Day**

**Pairing: Ed/Winry (sorry yaoi fangirls!!! next time!)**

**Words: 143**

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They are sitting in a river, with lily-pads floating about their knees that are tucked up to their chins. Winry watches a dragonfly land on Ed's head, his blond hair wet where it touches the water, floating out to meet hers. Her hair is lighter than his, and longer. She watches it dance and twine, floating together with his. The floating flowers, pink and many-petaled are so beautiful that she can't help but reach out and pick one, not noticing how Ed's eyes follow her pale hand, as elegant as the weeping willow that trails in the water downstream, sparkling with water droplets. His gold eyes watch intently as her strong fingers break the stalk, and balancing the flower between fingertips, bring it back to tuck into her hair, soft pink lips smiling.

It is just a memory, but Ed will never let it go.

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**A/N: Written in french class. There's this painting of a river with pink flowers in it that's really pretty leaning up against the board. It was my inspiration! (And the reason I had to re-take my oral test, if I had been paying attention instead... well, no one else was either!) I'll stop blabbering, sorry :) don't forget to review!!! and yes, it will be ed/roy next time, for those who are wondering)**


	10. God

**A/N: The 10****th**** drabble! (It is... right?) That means it's special! Thank you to Shoushin** **and TheQueenOfMediocrity. I'm glad my imagery isn't bad! I try! Thank you so much!**

**And now...**

**Title: God**

**Pairing: Ed/Roy**

**Words: 160**

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Since Ed doesn't believe in God, hasn't ever believed in God, and will never believe in God, it's hard to know who to scream to when lives are shattering and it's his fault. It's all his fault.

And just because he doesn't believe in hell either doesn't mean life can't be hell on earth.

It sure is damn hard to know you've got no one on you're your side but you; when you can't pray and you can't scream in infinite ecstacy.

You can't sob to God and be comforted when god doesn't exist.

Sometimes Ed thinks that sucks on ice.

Though, maybe he is not alone. And why can't the person in the world who is most important, the one who feels the most real to Ed, is there any reason **he **can't be God? That man who hates rain and paperwork and will flirt with anything that moves?

Why the hell not?

Ed smiles.

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**A/N: I wrote this during science. I'm gonna wish I'd gotten those notes... anyway, while I was reading this aloud to my friend, she said "flirts with anything that moves huh? What about those rolling chairs!!!" then mimed Roy Mustang stalking a roll chair ("...GOTCHA!!!!!!") That was... have I ever seen anything that funny/minorly disturbing? I do not believe so. **


	11. Put a Label on Hell

**Title: Put a Label on Hell**

**Pairing: Ed/Roy**

**Words: 193**

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Elric is not afraid of the dark. He knows his younger brother used to be, at least. But what he fears is entirely different. It is the ying or the yang. It is an odd thing he's never shared before. It is the light that threads into a black room, fed by that small crack between the door and the wall.

He fears that light and all it could illuminate. For someone who spends all his time looking for answers, he really hates getting them.

Elric doesn't want to know what that sliver of light could show, dancing tantalizing and terrifying across the black room that is his mind.

He doesn't want to know who he loves and he didn't want to know any of it.

Any of the nightmares. Name them! He shouts bitterly. Name the sins; name the pains one after another! Put a label on hell!

But soft fingers cover his mouth and stroke his hair, and he can imagine the Colonel's fire dancing around, illuminating it all. Accepting it all. And he can't yell through the sobs as he's held ever so gently, a loving breath kissing his skin.

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**A/N: I wrote this while procrastinating about doing my algebra homework. Math affects my mood, I swear! Hmmmm... I wonder if what I write has to do with the class I'm ignoring at the time? I do pay attention once I'm done. Drabbles don't take long... anyway, review please!**

**xo—**

**pandafoot**


	12. Two Steps Over

**Title: Two Steps Over**

**Pairing: Riza/Ed**

**Words: 186**

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It's odd when you know he's two steps over in the next room. Your eyes can't see but it seems like your heart can, like it's trying to pull you to him with the ache in your chest. She never understood how it could cause physical pain. Riza could understand pain from gunshots and burns and she **has **to get used to alchemy and it's many painful, bloody uses.

Unfortunately, the boy her heart is pulling her at also understands the pain of death and war and blood splattered on walls. She never meant for that to happen; never wanted that to happen. But it did. In that irrevocable, horrible self-mutilating, entirely to truthful idea of equivalent exchange. That boy is after a stone stained with blood, and he himself has sinned, chosen a life steeped in those sins — not of God but of nature (and maybe, she shivers, that's even worse.)

His voice is floating through the wall, annoyed yet again by their General. Her chest gives a particularly painful twinge.

He's not even that far away, just

two

steps

over.

She doesn't move.

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**A/N: I wrote this during French. It's because my french classroom (well, it's a portable) is right across from ...'cough' someone elses 'cough'... classroom/portable. I shall refrain from blabbering on about my pathetic love life. I'm crazy in love! ...with someone who thinks I'm just a friend...blahblahblah... you've heard it all before :D Sorry. Anyway! If I haven't scared you all away, review! **

**Oh, and if anyone's looking for a beta, I'd be happy to help! I love doing beta work! **

**Hope you liked it!**

**Pandafoot :)**


	13. Color

**Title: Color or There Is a Feeling**

**Pairing: none... but I'm going to write some follow-up for this one, so what do ****you**** want!?**

**Words: 186**

----------------- - _color - _-----------------

From **white** to **black**, he will go through his life, sifting through changes and blasphemy. Maybe really looking at life will help him to understand death.

And death (it is sad to be so) is both **black** and **white**. What love is platonic, and what is this glorious feeling spreading in his chest, coming up to his throat?

His life does have all the colors of the rainbow, but Ed can imagine **red** splattering all over that tapestry of fate and destiny, those threads that he plays with, that are eternally and irrevocably wrapped around his fingers that have played with the very forces of nature; that have dipped into hell (**red** flames). Oh, you can tell because half of those fingers are not of flesh and bone (**gray** metal), **yellow** hair loose in the wind, **white **gloves (reminders of what once was, but light colors are no longer.)

His clothes are **black **and his cloak is **red**, his life is splattered with **crimson** paint.

And there is a feeling spreading in his chest.

------------------ - _color - _-----------------

**A/N: This came to me, so I looked up color symbology. It's actually really interesting! I admit, I was thinking EdxRoy when I wrote this... I'd just printed off some french fanfiction and was translating it. I don't know if all french writers do such beautiful descriptions, if french just always sounds pretty, or if I stumbled upon a really good author.** **Review please!!!**

**Cheers,**

**pandafoot**


	14. Light

**Title: Light**

**Pairing: none... Ed/Roy centric, but no pairing...**

**Words: 125**

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There is moonlight shining in that secret amber liquid he can only drink at night. Drinking and drinking until he can't lift the bottle any longer, or until he passes out and has to wake up in time to clean up the glass and the vomit before the others realize.

Miles away there is another man.

There is firelight dancing in his eyes from a burning house that is not even ashes anymore, no, the earth has already claimed those as her own. But the fire will not leave his vision, after all, his home will never become un-consumed by those greedy, overpowering flames that shoot to the sky and reflect sickeningly in his eyes.

What did they expect, for there to be no light in hell?

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**A/N: Written while listening to How To Save a Life by The Fray. That song always makes me cry, no matter what. So I was probably crying when I wrote this down. Please review! The next one will be a follow-up on color. I'm going to go through as many colors (some arguably) as I can. Hope you liked it!**

**Love,**

**pandafoot :) **


	15. White

**Title: White**

**Pairing: None**

**Words: 173**

---------------_ - white - -----------------------_

The white used to be all around. A light, innocent color like snowflakes drifting softly, and white lilies in his mother's hands. White stands for innocence and purity. He craves it so much that it becomes redundant and he hates it. But back then, back then it was taken for granted. It was all around, in the clouds, and in the picket fences. In the whites of his mother's eyes; of Al's eyes.

The white was still there at the turning point. His mother's skin as her hand slowly, slowly fell open, relaxing; dying. The collar on Al's shirt under the black clothes. The gravestone's white, too.

So were the bandages, for seconds at least. That perfect ivory, a milky color, the flour that once dusted his mother's hands.

But those gloves they wear, that white is a deadly lie. They hide the sins and sin themselves. Ed knows it, and when he looks at Roy he knows that they both understand the horror. Two is just that much better than one, and it keeps them going, keeps them breathing.

-----------------_ - white - ----------------------_

**A/N: This is the first follow-up for "Color". No, I haven't done a pairing yet, but if no one says anything it'll probably end up RoyxEd, okay? Please review! **

**Love,**

**pandafoot :)**

**Oh, and I have a question! Do any guys read my fanfiction? I've always wanted to know. For some reason I always imagine only girls read and write on here, but that's completely wrong, isn't it! (Is it?)**


	16. The Last Gift

**Title: The Last Gift**

**Pairing: roy/hawkeye**

**Words: er... under 200. I forgot to count. But I know it's under 200!!!**

**Warning: I realized that if you look at this from a certain angle, it sounds a little more mature than I thought. Really, this is just me being paranoid...**

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She would give it to him. All that was left to give that he would take. She stands before her mirror, staring at the reflection that was so familiar, at a desperate woman ready to do anything. It would make her sick under normal circumstances. But his life and her life were far to removed from normal, and far to easily ended. Riza Hawkeye never was one to give up. Not on anything. Giving this last thing was better than giving up it all. Maybe this is her very last battle before she is destroyed. At least she will go down fighting. Even if, in a twisted way, it meant not fighting.

She steps away from the double in the glass, the desperate woman, the fighting soldier. For a second her hand rests on the butt of her gun, shaking at what she is wondering if she should do. Habit and stubbornness win out, and she does not place that beloved object that has kept them from harm for so long on the bed. She will hold on until the very end. The woman steps out onto the street, ready to give him the last.

Her steps do not tarry as she goes to give away herself.

Her body, her mind, her soul, they're no longer going to be hers the moment she shows up on his doorstep, ready to let him have all of her. She will fulfill his every desire, love be damned.

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**A/N: This was actually supposed to be put up later, because I wrote another before it, but I lost the notebook I wrote it in, thus I put up this one instead. This was inspired by a royxriza on youtube. I was listening to it while doing science homework, and this sorta fell on my head... review please.**


	17. Snap

**Title: Snap**

**Pairing: Ed/Roy For once from Roy's point of view...**

**Words: 165**

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Only Ed can see it. Everyone else seemed to think that because of the flames he stood for light and heat and courage. Only Ed can see how it consumes him every time he snaps his fingers. How much that tiny spark simply kills him.

Maybe the fact that Ed just _can't_ snap his fingers helped him to see. To see that Ed could see past the flames of glory to the horror. He never meant for anyone to see past the shroud of licking, murdering, red-orange servants of the devil. But maybe it was okay if it was him.

Maybe it was all okay if Ed was the one to break the barrier. Maybe it was alright to think he was so cute as he tried vainly to snap his fingers.

Roy just laughs and pretends to frown as he slides those deadly gloves off the blonde's straining hands. Ed looks at his eyes and knows he knows.

Roy snaps and a spark flies.

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**A/N: Wow, I actually wrote an Edxroy in french class. I'm so proud! Obviously, I found that notebook of mine... (yay!) Review please!!!**


	18. Piano

**Title: Piano**

**Pairing: Ed/Roy**

**Words: 194**

**thanks for the reviews!!!!!!!**

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There is a piano playing, the music cascading down from an open window, splashing through the air, slowing his lonely footsteps on the pavement. Others have gathered where the sounds are the fullest, faces ragged after a long day. People linked by the simple fact that they are standing together listening to notes trickling in the air.

It is sad and sweet, the piano. Speaking of years lost and threads of time that have since been snipped and whisked away on the cosmic wind.

Something tells him to look up, the tiny movement of his eyes causing unknown tears to spill over. Not ten feet away, Roy is standing, head bent, mutely joining the silent audience of the piano; its haunting story that is haunting not in fear but in sweetness. It is childhood and his mother's soft brown hair. It is all they have lost, it is all they have gained. Roy glances up and their eyes meet. The piano's song continues, washing over them.

'Don't miss another chance.' it seems to whisper.

The music fades and he takes a step forward. It almost feels as if the notes are still there, tinkling on the wind.

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**A/N: When I originally wrote this, it was 334 words, so I've had to cut out a lot. Does it still make sense? Review please. **


	19. Cliche

**Title: Cliche**

**Pairing: Ed/Roy**

**Words: 102**

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Hate can be a complicating matter, squirming in ones grip. Roy loves him for hating him. It meant the blond boy actually saw him. And was somehow still pure enough to hate the sins. Even if they were both wrong, and somehow hate and love are only separated by a fragile membrane that could have been sanity. They hope that's not what's broken, but know for sure something is. No healing, just saving. It is them. And they hate it and will never, ever let it go. They are addicted forever. He sighs. Hate and love. So cliche. Yet so damn real.

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**A/N: This was originally just a little note for an idea. Then it grew. And grew some more... and got itself a plotline...**

**Review please!**


	20. Worth a Wait

**Title: Worth a Wait**

**Pairing: ed/roy**

**Words:**

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When he comes home late and sees Ed asleep on the couch, having crashed while waiting for him, he'll take a shower with only light from a candle so that the sudden brightness of electric lights wouldn't startle him, and he blows out the candle before he opens the door. That fire is comfortingly benign.

Then he'll carry the blonde sleepy-head to bed, and kiss his temple, and wonder why life is suddenly worth living when there's someone waiting for you to come home. But it is confusing, and he is tired from a long day of being held at gunpoint for incomplete paperwork and getting his uniform chewed by Black Hayate and the newest problem that will affect him and the boy in his arms eventually. But for now he is tired and living is worth it, because he is holding love in his arms, and Ed was trying to stay up just to see him.

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**A/N: hmmm... I know most people who read this are ed/roy fans... it's rather obvious... anyway, even if you do like edxroy, this story Colours is WinryxAl and is amazing! Really, even if it's not your favorite paring, you have to check it out! I'm thinking I'll write 50 of these drabbles. Review? N'est pas? (Random french)**


	21. This is the Only Hotel I Swear

**A/N: I wasn't going to update, until I realized that today is October 10****th****, meaning THE October tenth which is so important to our favorite main character of a certain manga (or anime...). So anyway, I figured I should update.**

**Title: This is the Only Hotel (I Swear)**

**Pairing: Ed/Roy**

**---------------------------------------------------**

They had to share a bathroom, and Ed wasn't happy about it. The Colonel wants to know why. He should know why: it's because he's himself and if he ranked so high in the damn military, then why couldn't he afford his own bathroom, dammit! Roy looked at him pointedly, trying to either agitate him further to provide entertainment, or to shut him up so they wouldn't get kicked out of the hotel - which, he reminded Ed - was the only hotel in town. Well, he should (apparently) stay out of Ed's way! The blonde finished shouting and stomped into the room to the left of the aggravating bathroom.

About an hour afterwards, safe in his own room and sprawled on the bed like a cat, Roy decided to stick his toothbrush in their bathroom. Thank God (he snorted) this wasn't permanent.

When the door swung open, his eyes widened slightly and for some reason he got that muddy feeling that appears when one doesn't know if one should smile or cry or laugh or be annoyed. Somehow it was brought to the surface by the multitude of alchemy books lying around, dominating every carefully cleaned, chipped porcelain bit of the bathroom. There were notes and sketches and something that appeared to be a travelogue. It was like being inside Ed's mind. He was not even going to try to explain why, at that thought, the smile won out. (He'd always thought he'd run screaming from Ed's mind).

But his toothbrush found its place next to the most worn, most loved of the books, and he gently, almost reverently, closed the door.

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**happy October 10****th**** everybody! Please review!**


	22. Gentleman

**Title: Gentleman**

**Pairing: Royai**

**Words: less than 200 **

He presses his lips to her hand as if he is a gentleman. To which her mind (or what's left of it) wants her to reply with an un-graceful snort. But her senses are taking over and her thoughts are being tempted to the enemies side, past the borderline that is losing ground to the place where the heat of his lips burns her more than his war-craft ever could, singeing the fraying threads of her soul. The parts of her that would fall to worship the simple touch, this oh so chivalric touch that comes as a blatant lie of character and personality. But maybe not of what he wants. The gentleman act holds for a few hushed, sorely tempted seconds before he brazenly runs his fingers through the smallest bit of her hair, brilliant in the late afternoon sunlight. His eyes quickly pick up the twitch of her hand towards her gun hilt, and he turns away, the moment of almost-there chivalry lost. The man walks out the door, running his hand along his scalp in some emotion she cannot place. A soft swear word, and all is silent but the clink of a watch chain and the shuffling of papers.

**A/N: There is actually an embarrassing story attached to this. I was editing it in math class, and my teacher picked it up, and started reading it (silently thank god). My handwriting is no good so people kept asking me what the heck I'd written that had taken that long. So you get the idea, I am deathly afraid of my math teacher. Not only is he six feet, eight inches (0.0) math is my worst subject and my math teacher is STEALTHY! How can a guy that tall be stealthy!!!??? so now I have to never bring out my regular notebook in math...**


	23. World

**Title: World**

**Pairing: none. Elysia centric.**

**Words: 133**

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She knew death didn't end the world. She knew that other people had lost their daddies.

But, she could bitterly remember, when daddy dies on that rainy day filled with sun so long, long ago, a lot of worlds ended, and it wasn't only hers. Worlds weren't supposed to end when people died. But she can still pick out the people in the crowd who's worlds defied all logic and came crashing down. One of the people is staring back at her in the mirror with eyes that were too vacant, and a smile that wasn't, and had seen the end of days.

To hell with it all, because the world ended when daddy died.

On that rainy day full of sun, so many years ago.

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**A/N: Wow, no one expected me to write Elysia did they? Neither did I... The people Elysia sees are Hughes' friends, namely the Colonel and her mother. The rainy day full of sun is the funeral. If you look at the sky, it is blue, with some clouds, yet Mustang says "it's starting to rain." That can be thought of more as an expression of his own feelings at the time.**


	24. This is for You

**Title: This is for You Because I Love You (But You Don't Know)**

**Pairing: Roy/Riza - Royai**

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It was in the way she wrapped a scarf around him on the days the ghosts haunted him enough that he vaguely (sometimes clearly) wanted to die. So the idea of freezing cold without a scarf didn't register in his mind. It was in the way she waited outside the bar in the snow and blamed the tears on snowflakes melting on her cheeks, when inquired on by worried passers-by.

It was in the way she pried the mostly empty glass from his fingers and blankly pushed money over the counter and helped him down the street without being noticed.

It was in the way her whole body quaked and her mind reeled and sanity threatened to leave her when she told him he had to stop and to put down the bottle or she'd shoot at him, only to have him spread his arms wide, embracing the idea of her ending it all.

It was in the way she made sure to lug him, somehow finding the strength to half carry, half drag her superior officer away from where he'd collapsed next to his bottle.

It was in the way she stroked his face, his hair, in the midst of those liquor dreams, when there was no one to see.

It's because... shh! (But he doesn't know)

---------------------------------------------

**A/N: I've been on a Royai binge lately, so I'll try to break it up with as much of other pairings and generally EdRoy (it seems the most popular). But if you get tired of it, or you have a pairing you want to read, tell me, and I'll get it up right away! Review please!**


	25. Afterimage

**Title: Afterimage**

**Pairing: Ed/Roy**

**Words: 93**

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When ed was gone, all that was left were gold, gold eyes seared onto his eyelids in a cruel teasing that he secretly, in a masochistic way, enjoys. Because he should never be allowed to forget. To forget the boy he could not save, could not stop. Damn, he hadn't been holding Al back. He'd been frozen, frozen in place as he watched Ed walk away. Not able to comprehend. Numb. Not strong enough to go after him.

And all that was left was an afterimage of haunting gold, gold, gold.

-----------------------------------

**A/N: Yes, Ed is gone in this one. It made me sad just to write this. Review?**


	26. Slam

**Title: Slam**

**Pairing: none really. Ed and Roy centric**

**Words: 137**

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The cards came down on the table hard, the gloved hand on top of them, complete with a deadly array of heat and flames.

The owner of the hand smirked across the table as he made sure his opponent could see his 'winning' hand.

SLAM

Ed grinned tauntingly, and threw his own cards down.

SLAM

Roy now.

SLAM

Ed set his legs across the table, upsetting some of the shiny enameled cards, each with the Furher's crest on the back.

SLAM

Roy returned with equal force, leaning across the table so that his nose was nearly brushing Ed's, eyes locked; gently shoving Ed's black clad ankles to the side. Loudly, he dealt out his own share of cards.

SLAM

Annoyed by this final hand, Roy grabbed Fullmetal, knocked his chair askew, and threw him to the floor.

SLAM

That was how they always played.

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**A/N: I really need to add "Fullmetal" into my wordprocessor's dictionary. Originally, this was edroy, but then I read it over and found it horribly cheesy. So it has been changed, a little :) Review please!!! **


	27. Love

**Title: Love**

**Pairing: not telling :X**

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Love. At first it seemed as if he had blundered into a wall in more ways than one. First of all, being slammed into a wall was nothing compared to this. Alphonse shook off his reasoning that he couldn't feel the poor wall anyhow, and could've gotten the statistics wrong, but well — that didn't matter right now. This love, it was not stronger or weaker than the love for his mother (a stifled sob) or his brother ( a small smile of the stuff of the soul). But it had hit him so hard, he could feel it as if he had a chest, with a steadily thrumming heart and fingers that could knot painfully into the fabric over his ribs.

But, thinking on it, this love of the fatherly sort, it should be impossible. The amount of happiness that thrums through him at the sight of her leaves him dumbstruck.

She's just such a cute little kitty, he couldn't help it.

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**A/N: Ahahaha!!! I really want to know the opinions on this one! There must've been something odd (and sugar packed) in that pasta I just ate... CAT LOVERS UNITE! Hehehe... tell me what you think, I love Al :)**


	28. Taken

**A/N: There seems to have been a bit of confusion at the last drabble. Yes, Al was talking about a cat. Y'know, the type that meows and makes me get up every five minutes to let him in...then out...then in...then out...then in...**

**Title: Taken**

**Pairing: non-direct EdWin. Winry centric**

**words: 82**

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Maybe the most brutal part was the swiftness. Before she knew just what Alphonse was, all she could see was Ed.

An arm and a leg. She hadn't had the time! Was her thought. She hadn't loved that arm enough, hadn't studied the muscles of that leg to full capacity. She hadn't appreciated it enough and now it was lost, and she would never understand what type of loss "exchange" was.

If she hadn't sinned, then why was this taken from her?

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**A/N: I haven't written edwin in a while, it's refreshing :D Review please!**


	29. Scream

**Title: Scream**

**Pairing: Ed/Roy**

**Warning: Spoilers for the end of the series. Major ones. And the movie. Lots of juicy spoilers...:D**

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He was doing this for Al. Al would be okay. Al was stronger than Ed could ever hope to be. And right then all Al's strength had been put into keeping him from that scary mirror world that his soul today occupied.

Al would be fine. He'd shouted about Winry. The one who was always waiting. And now he was about to make her wait forever. Still, Winry may not have been as strong as Al, but she had never been broken. Never been truly, completely broken. So she would heal.

Al never knew how close he was, how easily he could've made Ed turn around and come running back.

But Al never thought to scream _"Mustang!"_

And so there was nothing to keep Ed in that world.

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**A/N: I need to stop writing sad stuff. Separation anxiety? I dunno :) I have a break starting Wednesday, and then I'll actually update my stories! Review please!!!**


	30. Selfish

**Title: Selfish **

**Pairing: none. Roy and Elysia Hughes centric (I love Elysia)**

**Words: 84 **

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When they're together, they can say selfish things.

He looked up from his paperwork. "I wish you'd gotten Mais' hair."

"Me too."

She played with a loose thread on her dress. " I hate that you knew him longer than me."

He looked straight into her eyes. "I hate that he loved you more."

It is refreshing, letting brutal honesty tear them up, instead of hushed pain.

They both knew it was a spawning ground for masochism, but the whole point was that neither cared, anymore.

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**A/N: I guess this wasn't really something I should be writing on thanksgiving, but oh well. I wrote it while translating one of my doujinshi into french. The story line is based on one of these drabbles. I think it was 'World'. So I was thinking a lot about Roy and Elysia and Hughes. Actually, this one was born from me wondering what Elysia would've looked like if I'd drawn her with Hughes' hair (obviously I couldn't, because she got Gracia's)**


	31. Moon Shower

A/N: okay, today is a very special day! I've officially been on the sight for exactly a year! AND it's exactly one month till my birthday! So I'm going to celebrate by going through my notebook and putting up any drabbles I find! Including drabble ideas (this one I just wrote now.)!

Title: Moon-shower

Pairing: Hughes/Mustang centric (more of me angsting over Hughes' death. Huzzah!)

Words: 84

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Rain at night. Somehow the moon was out, a creamy, pale, dead world. Water hissed on pavement and on his skin, hair, face and soul. Wet black hair and wet black eyes. Was death black? If so, he was as dead as Maes. But the moon (maybe there was a hole in the clouds?) was dead and it was the only thing in the entire night that wasn't black. So maybe he was past dead? But that was just as probable as a moon shower.

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A/N: I've had this bouncing in my head for a long time, but the bigger focus on the moon came from studying too much for my science exam. :D I hope everyone understands this — everyone knows that a sun shower is when it rains while it's still sunny, right? This is the same, just with the moon. You get lots of sun showers in Florida.

Review please!!!


	32. One Plus One

**A/N: because today is just so special, here's more! XD**

**Title: One Plus One**

**Pairing: Riza/Roy**

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Their relationship was that of fine lines and contradiction. And sometimes those oddities that create the idea of "them" are flat out lies. They both strive to not make it so, but much the same they both understand just how weak humanity is; how weak they themselves are. Neither have embraced that fact, but as it is generally understood, it has become a fact of them.

It is the facts that matter, that **have** to matter, if they are to survive. Maybe someday this chancy two-step of arithmetic may end, but not until goals are shifted, old barriers taken down, old barriers that will never so much as crumble left up; a new time upon them.

But for now, something is simple and solid, if not "them", then the fact that one plus one equals two; equals them.

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**A/N: This is one of the ones I just never put up...**


	33. Defining Existance

A/N: and the updating binge goes on! Woohoo!

Title: Defining Existence

Pairing: not technically... okay... so there is... Roy/Riza

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There are people who say existence is sometimes defined by existence. She never gives her opinion to them when one such person might mention it. Riza knows that they are correct, but she does not like the way all they had to do was to think it through and examine what their minds spat out.

What did they know of only existing because of another? Yes, they were absolutely correct. But she doesn't like it because even now (after all these years) she still wishes she could have a reason to exist, to be alive, to have been **born**, that was separate from him.

But Riza is well aware that she couldn't live that way, theory or no.

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A/N: has anyone else noticed that most of my pairings are actually onesided? This could show something about the current state of my love life... (or maybe I just like writing it onesided; it does seem easier). Review please!


	34. Eating

**A/N: okay, this is the fourth one tonight, and I'm starting to get tired... and I still have algebra homework that I can't not do because I'm like, a tenth of a point away from a "D" right now...**

**Title: Eating**

**Pairing: mild elricest**

**Warning: Yes, elricest is edxal. Yes, Ed and Al are brothers. Yes, this pairing is incest. Yes, I warned you. But nothing happens. I could rate this K. It's fluff, for goodness sake. And it's hardly there!!!!**

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Dinner was a practiced affair. A ritual begun in childhood, then blatantly and brutally ended by another practice. Then it became lonely, unspeakably painful. Sometimes, Ed wouldn't eat, or would forget to do so. But all things must come full circle. Thus, they did.

Meals had always been messy. Now, if it was Ed who cooked, nothing could be discernable from the next. If Al cooked, Ed could swear he'd picked up some of Trisha's talent. Saying so would make the boy blush and cry, tears falling softly, and Ed would gently wipe them away with his warm thumb, and kiss the damp cheek, and hold his baby brother and tell him he loved it.

When they ate, it was hard to keep track of, utensils continuously stealing, sampling, taking back. Limbs stretching, forks clacking together, drinks sipped. Sharing everything. Touch and love and warmth and memories and good, good food.

If **Al **cooked.

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**A/N: if you're an elricest fan, and you don't mind stuff rated M, then you have to read this story that I found. It doesn't actually have any sex in it, though it's rated for a reason. (Not gore or anything either, if you were wondering.) It's called The Curious and the Covert, and I am in AWE of the author, brain0Rat (something like that). It is simply AMAZING. I've read it over so much that I can quote parts :)**

**Review please!**


	35. Seven Hundred and Thirty

**Dedication: to QueenofMediocrocy, because she reviewed a couple of my stories and made me want to update. :D **

**Title: Seven Hundred and Thirty**

**Pairing: none; it's angsty**

**Words: grah! It's too long! I'm not even going to say...**

**Warning: spoilers for the end of the series (which, by the way, you really don't want spoiled) and for loads of angstyness. :D**

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Two years. Two years of hell. Two years of an odd, half-grief, half-confusion. Two years in which a Colonel wondered at the sight of a world grieving for a boy. In which a boy felt that he was two, or he was nothing.

In which a girl stood in the countryside hills and stared at anything and everything reminded her; in which the girl and a Lieutenant both have times when, nearly asleep — but not quite yet — they wrench up in bed, one horrible memory swimming in their irises, and scream "Don't leave me!" so many times that their throats are red and raw in the morning (but there are no mornings in the Dark Years). The woman can find comfort in that it is merely a memory (though hard to call 'mere'), but the girl lives the moment every second of two years.

For two years the Colonel guessed that if he died, not as many would mourn for him, and basks in the masochism. The boy thinks he is even less than "before" that he cannot remember, that involved a mere soul and someone with his name, and growing lesser, until he is finally non-existent. It would almost be a relief not to question it anymore.

For two years in which an old lady let her heart turn to stone, and believes herself a coward for it, since those around her let the pain devour them, crush them, and leave her with living bodies, dead souls, and an old dog for company.

Two long, long years in which a boy broke himself trying to find a way to a place he doesn't dare call home from a place he doesn't dare call reality. And he fails.

Seven hundred and thirty days, six hours, twenty-one minutes, and eighteen seconds, Edward lived hell, and the mirror world mirrored him; the mirror people with no sun. The Dark Years.

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**A/N: This came from reading a doujinshi that takes place between the end of the anime and the movie. It occurred to me that it had to be just about the worst two years ever. Then the writing hit... it came THIS CLOSE to turning into a giant chapter fic, but I staved it off now, back to reading that doujin... :D**

**Please review!!!**


	36. Dawn

**Title: Dawn**

**Pairing: none. Ed Al centric.**

**Words: 135**

**A/N: Alphonse narration! I love Al!!!**

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At night, I sit awake, and wait for the first steely gray light of dawn, that brother says matches my eyes perfectly (completely). I can watch it creep over the windowsill, the mist that formed overnight lighting like dream clouds before it.

I can't sleep, so this is my dream; this time, and brother is breathing in my lap, and I can't feel his hot skin, but he is there and I feel warm. Maybe my chest would tighten if I had a chest.

We were always up by this time, brother says, running like swift-footed (demons, brother says. But I think fairies.) Through diamond dew-drop sprinkled grass. When brother is half awake, golden irises deep wells of sleepy thoughts, he whispers that I'm the morning.

I wonder if dawn remembers me?

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**A/N: Why won't fan fiction let me use symbles!? Grah! School's back, so that means more drabbles; less big chapters. Less sleep too... IB classes...(same as AP classes, just as terrifying) ... so scary... Alright, please review! And QueenofMediocracy, THANK YOU!!! You reviewed just about every FMA fic I **_**have**_**!! Thank you!!!**


	37. Bodies of Broken Glass

**A/N: Sorry for the wait!**

**Title: Bodies of Broken Glass**

**Pairing: None. This covers the main characters, namely Ed, Al, Roy, Winry, Riza etc. **

**Dedication:** **Mage of Dragons, because I got inspired to write this by reading the summary of your fic, Move Foreward. Don't ask why; I don't know...**

They end up supporting each other, these feelings and ideas. These broken people, they lend out all they have left to give. Broken pride and shattered love. The strength and agony. If they don't give them away, there will be no interaction, no way to prop themselves up on the very person who is leaning so heavily on their won body of broken glass. It cuts them, but they will never stand on their own again.

These are the broken, the shattered, and the damned.

**A/N: I need to write more fluff and plot. This angst has to be getting annoying by now... review please!**


	38. Haircut

**Title: Haircut**

**Pairing: none, Ed and Al centric**

**Words: 138**

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

It was pure relief, to cut of that ponytail. Because there was no reason to pretend he was someone he's not anymore. Not when Edward was the one holding the scissors, and watching honey strands float to the floor, covering in a fine layer of broken dreams. The bister locks were all over him, tickling his nose.

Some were suntouched and sandy colored, some a bright blond that most people seemed to wish he'd had. But Edward's real hand pinches together a few strands and stuffs them in his pocket.

"Looks like Mom's," he whispers. And Alphonse remembers how much he'd loved those darkest strands that were nearly red, and the way amber shone in the sun.

Ed doesn't understand why Al starts crying, and he's not really sure himself, watching the wind blow the long hair away.

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**A/N: I was just IM ing my friend and this came over me... I suppose it's post movie. Two drabbles in a day... think of it as part payment for not updating in so long... :D Review please! **


	39. Crash and Burn

Title: Crash and Burn

Pairing: WinryxElrics; Winry centric

Words: under 200... I don't feel like counting...

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I can't reach them. My hands can claw at empty air as I sleep through the nightmares. I can walk in on them, yelling, but when they show me a tiny bit of the pain, all I can see is a dark well, and I can't reach down. I'll **die** if I venture towards them. My fragile self will shatter into a million pieces, because I am not strong. I'm cracked and weak. If I go where they are, I will die.

The black pain will swallow me whole, and I'd just add to it as I struggle for one last breath, and think of them. I would crash and burn.

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**A/N: This came really close to being lost in the depths of the family computer. It was sheer luck that I saw it and was feeling random enough to click on it thinking 'what the heck is this?' so thus, here it is. Review please!**


	40. Nonperson

**Title: Nonperson**

**Pairing: slight HeiEd**

**Words: 134**

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He walks into the room, and they walk out. They don't even try to hide it. It shouldn't make him angry; he knows what it's like to dislike someone. Really, he should be fine with it, even if they are just ignorant and he loathes ignorance. They study hard, at least.

But when Alfons finds him, the chair has been thrown across the room, the table broken and the notes and textbooks and papers — those so meticulously written and organized are torn and chaotic on the floor.

Wordlessly, he took Edward's real arm — the blond kneeling amongst the mess, and led him quietly away, letting him lean on his shoulder, broken and dejected.

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**A/N: This takes place during the movie. The people who walk out are Alfons's research team. (Who all think Edo's nuts). Poor Edward... Review please!**


	41. Shell Shock

**Title: Shell shock**

**Pairing: Roy/Ed. I missed them...**

**Words: 103**

**Takes place post-movie, and post-WW2**

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Now that he knows how it feels, it is too late. When a plane flies over, the engine whirring in his ears, he'll dive to the ground with all the agility he has, arms covering his face, cowering from bombs that were not coming. The war is over, but not in his eyes and lips and his throat that is raw from screaming in the night.

Now that he knows the symptoms in himself, he no longer misses what that look in the Colonel's eyes is. But he is eight years and a world to late to tell the man that he understands.

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**A/N: ooh, it feels so good to write them again. Like going home after a long day, and you didn't realize how tired you were till you get some rest. :D Review please.**


	42. Art

Title: Art

Pairing: Roy/Ed

Words: 124

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"I wish I could draw people," he says. I'm not sure how to reply. You don't need to know that for the rockets. But the words won't fly because he's wearing that look I can't respond to. I've seen the sketches, buried under coffee stained notes. I've seen the faces that I know don't live in this world (well, yet they do, but not the people and not the same — not good enough for Edward). Maybe they just live in his head and maybe not. The words are dead in my rotting chest.

He has been improving substantially lately. Given a couple more days, I could easily sell the nudes of the man with black hair, if I wanted to lower myself to it.

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A/N: this is from Heiderich's POV, poor guy. I made this up as I went, and I gotta say, it was fun. Reviews are welcome!


	43. Edward

**Title: Edward**

**Pairing: not really, just Ed-love**

**Words: didn't count 'em... oops.**

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Sometimes Alphonse would look at him, with his dreary clothes, drab as the northern birds, and remember crimson and ebony and gold and saffron, all bursting with life and clashing together.

Edward of then seems unimaginable in this place. But older, more mature, longer hair, wiser eyes — the Edward of now. As omnipotent as humans can be. He thinks maybe people can sense it — the impossibility of Edward, with the body of late teens and golden eyes that defy and attract and contradict and hate and love and hurt — splitting at the seams from all the information, all the turbulent emotions.

Ed is contradiction. Ed is chaos. Ed is impossible. Ed is his brother, sitting next to him on the couch, sipping black coffee and griping about the weather.

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**A/N: Come to think of it, my memories of this school year (well, more the first half) have a lot to do with this story... I'm planning on ending it at fifty, so we're scarily close! But, after I end all my fics (or mark some as on hatius — don't worry, no fma ones) I'm going to start an ultra-long fic that will either be great or a flop...and this scene will be in it. So hey, sneek preview! Review please! **


	44. Ich Leibe

Title: Ich Leibe

Pairing: none. Okay, I really need to write one...

Words: 95

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This world is dark, and light. It is brother's eyes and brother's hair. It is beautiful. The lights of downtown Central and the desert stars over Lior. The mountains of the North and the soft hills of our childhood.

Mostly, it is brother's smile, and his glee at good Xingese food. Good books that I can sink into, between brittle sephia pages.

I love this world. I love this world, even if I do not exist in it; as empty as the night.

I love this world.

I love this world.

I loved that world.

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**A/N: I had to go and make it all sad... sheesh... unless you've seen the end of the series, this probably makes no sense. Heck, if you haven't seen the movie. And if you've seen both and still don't understand, please tell me! **

**Oh! And whoever guesses what the title means gets a free drabble, whatever pairing or situation they want! (If you leave an anonymous review, please leave contact info) Review please!**


	45. Hospital

**A/N: I'm baaaaack! Thanks for all the feedback on the last drabble! And now, there are three winners, because yes, "ich liebe" means "I love" My German right now is kind of like my sign language. I can say "I love you" and "fuck you" (sorry 'bout the swearing). And that's about it... **

**Anyways, goodbye-for-now, TheQueenOfMediocrity, and Mage of Dragons have drabbles owed to them :)**

**Alright, here's the one for goodbye-for-now. Hope you enjoy! **

**Title: Hospital**

**Pairing: parental!royelrics**

**Words: 153**

**--**

They weren't supposed to know.

That was his first thought, black eyes glancing back and forth from the IV drip taped to his hand to the two sleeping boys leaning against the wall next to his hospital bed. Alphonse had shifted so that his head rested on the sheets, carefully not touching any of Roy's bandages. When he lifted his hand, it was pale as the white sheets, and trembled as he stroked the worried boy's head.

Edward's golden eyes cracked open. Roy didn't say anything about the red rings around them, or the purple bruises. The kid had lost enough; he wasn't going to let himself be added to that tally. Instead he peered carefully at Edward, trying to hear what those eyes were trying to say.

Under his hand, Alphonse stirred, and looked sleepily at him. Then he whispered faintly what Ed wanted to speak.

"You going to be okay Dad?"

--

**A/N: Mage of Dragons, what do you want me to write for you? I'm sorry if you told me before, but if so its been lost somewhere in the depths of yahoo!mail... review please!**


	46. 3AM

**A/N: This is for QueenOfMediocrity (I think I finally spelled your name right!) Who won a drabble. Here you go!**

**Title: 3AM**

**Pairing: Maes/Roy**

**Words: 212... heh... I know it's over the limit, but I can't cut anymore!**

--

There was sand blowing into the tent. They were lonely. They were tired. They were bored. And Maes thought Roy might be dying.

They should put up signs: Welcome to Ishbal, please commence destroying your soul.

Because his friend wasn't injured outwardly. Nor were his organs messed up. But he was dying all the same, and Maes felt powerless. He was lying there on the cot, black hair spilling on the off-white pillow. His eyes never moved from the ceiling. It was three in the morning, and he was refusing to sleep.

Maes new the nightmares were bad, but he really would die if those broken black eyes didn't get some rest.

"Roy." No response. Just trembling. All his muscles were taught and his skin was pale and he was shaking. Maes stood, boots grinding on the sand that never seemed to go away. Next to the bed a white hand reached out and grabbed onto his coat with the grasp of a drowning man.

Maes let his hand touch a shoulder, up his neck, into his ebony hair, feeling Roy relax a little under human touch. The hand in his coat did not loosen.

He sighed and bent to kiss those full lips, trying to chase the fear away.

"Sleep, Roy."

--

**AN: Maes is surprisingly fun to write. Review please!**


	47. Lust In Chaos

**Title: Lust in Chaos**

**Pairing: RoyEd**

**Words: 112**

--

Nonsensical and bright. Deep in the core of him, that's what these thoughts were. They were coated in muddy feelings, in guilt and hatred and humiliation. But underneath, they were a maelstrom of light. And that was the scariest of all, maybe. It would be easier if there was no light left. No desire of his own.

But hell, there was desire. And left ignored it boiled in his stomach until he was sick. Dark hair and ivory skin swam in his vision, rendering him unable to want much more than that man, to feel cool hands cupping his face and a warm body pressed against his. It wasn't enough to wish, anymore.

--

**A/N: I cannot be held accountable for this, for I am very sick and under the influence of various drugs. Which don't seem to be helping... anyways, I seem to be procrastinating about this fic, since I'm going to end it at fifty, but I'll be sad to... please share your thoughts and review! (Six more and I'll have 100! How the heck did that happen?? 0.0)**


	48. When You Get Well

**A/N: shoot, I'm just getting sicker. Fingers are trembling a little, but typing is second nature :) And I had SO much fun writing this. It felt good. And my sweet little brother gave me a throat lozenge.**

**Title: When You Get Well**

**Pairing: JeanRoy**

**Words: 200, on the mark**

--

They walk around the city, pavement grinding under their boots, as if protesting to the day's wear and tear. It is just after sunset, and they are alone on the dusky streets. The man with sandy hair is wearing all black and the pale, pretty, dark haired one is wearing all black and the pale, pretty, dark haired one is wearing a military uniform with the jacket open. It's unusual for him, but he feels over-dressed and over-important next to the other man. He's not sure why he cares, just grateful that they're outside and away from the smell of sterile things and antiseptic.

They walk slowly because the taller one with pale hair is on crutches, and the other is matching his pace. He looks towards the horizon, blue eyes tired and betrayed.

"I wish I was in the country," he says.

"It's not that great when you live there," the dark haired military man responds. It's an odd thing, how the one on crutches just looks at him with those sapphire eyes, and how the shorter one responds.

"We'll go sometime," he says. He doesn't tack 'when you get well' on the end. But it is a vow.

--

**A/N: Hey, QOM, here's some JeanRoy for you! Break a leg in Les Miserables!! Actually, you're probably reading this post-opening night. So then good job (cause I know you did great) and best of luck for the rest!!**

**Review please!**


	49. Metallic

**A/N: It's rather important to know that this takes place a couple months after Edward's automail surgery. **

**Title: Metallic**

**Pairing: None**

**Words: 92**

--

A metallic scent, like blood. Wafting around him, pungent, stinging the roof of his mouth. It makes him feel a little light-headed, sometimes.

But mostly it just makes him want to puke.

He actually isn't bleeding as much now. The blood he would cough and breathe and sink in. Maybe it just didn't want to give up its hold on his body. Maybe the blood had decided on its own accord not to let him forget that he was stained, dirty, contaminated, bloody, sinner.

The smell of metal fused to his flesh.

--

**A/N: this is a leftover I wrote a LONG time ago. And found. I'm going to watch the Kentucky derby tonight... review please.**


	50. Balancing On A Wire

**Title: Balancing On A Wire**

**Pairing: Edward and whoever you like paired with him. (I chose Mustang)**

**Words: 158**

--

There's music floating into his mind, a song stuck in his head. His long blond hair swishes in the wind, dancing like the frail leaves on the trees that line the sidewalk.

He wishes the song would stop and the wind would stop because he can't hear himself think and he's never been able to concentrate well with music. His fingers and cold and turning red in his coat pockets, but he feels like he must pay attention to the path along which his thoughts are heading, lest he fall off and be left behind.

He's thinking of that person, and that person only. It's so goddamn dangerous, as if one misstep will throw him off the edge of the world. He keeps his eyes down and his boots moving, then thumps into a waiting figure.

His golden eyes glance up into the other's face, and the epiphany struggles to the surface.

"Oh," he says, "I love you."

--

**A/N: WAAAAH! It's over! Since the theme this entire time has mostly been love, I decided I needed to put it in the ending... T-T I only came up with the idea because I had to explain to my Mum that no, I didn't hate her music, I was just closing the door because I can't write with any on. So that's why Ed can't concentrate with music.**

**Anyways, I would like to thank all of you very much for reading and reviewing this fic. It's got over eleven thousand views and over a hundred comments, and it's all thanks to you! So thank you so so so so so much!!**


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